What's Within Our Souls
by FrostWyrmUltimatum
Summary: Some people are born to be heroes. Some work their way up, in order to protect those they love. But what happens when you are forced to take up the mantle? When the world just won't leave him alone, a young Argonian must accept the fate laid out before him. But being a hero is never easy, especially in these cold lands. Rated T for violence and dark themes.


**Okay, I swear this will be the last modification to the first chapter. No more procrastinating, no more putting it off. Chapter 2 will be here soon. Now time for Amateur Hour!**

Smoke and ash filled the sky as Helgen burned to the ground. The once proud fort now stood in flames, the screams and shouts of people, followed by the roar of a mighty beast accompanying it. The dragon flew around, hellfire spewing from its maw, occasionally snatching up a soldier, lifting them high into the early morning sky, before dropping them to their deaths. Meteors also fell from the sky, threatening to crush someone and tear them apart. It seemed like the end of the world. Hell, it pretty much was.

I raced through the battlefield, held up by the Imperial soldier beside me. Every step in my fractured ankle caused pain to throb throughout my body.

"Come on!" he yelled, "We're almost there! Just keep going!"

I stumbled over something and hit the stone ground, pain burning across my leg. A pair of arms wrapped around my body and lifted me up once again. The soldier helped me steady my balance, and then we were moving again. I quickly looked back to see what I tripped me: a woman lying on the ground, a citizen judging by her clothing. She lay in a puddle of blood. She wasn't moving.

Hadvar and I passed under an arch, and before us was the entrance to the keep, our supposed safe house from the dragon's assault. We were about to reach the door that led inside, when a blonde, bearded man intercepted us. He had long, blonde hair, and was clad in the blue uniform of the Stormcloaks. I first met him on the cart to Helgen, right before the dragon attack. He was set to be executed, along with me and a few other captured soldiers, including the leader of the Stormcloaks themselves, Ulfric Stormcloak. He held an axe in his hand.

Hadvar was the first to speak: "Ralof, you damn traitor," he yelled angrily, amidst the chaos. His left arm shifted, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Out of my way!"

Ralof kept a straight face. If he was angry, he didn't show it. "We're escaping, Hadvar," he replied, "You're not stopping us this time!"

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Hadvar started to move when Ralof stopped us again.

"Wait, friend," he spoke to me, grabbing my arm to stop me. Hadvar looked back threateningly, but didn't interject. "Come with me. We'll get out of this together." He put on a friendly smile, stepping closer to me, as if to grab me.

I could go with him. I could let go of Hadvar and join up with Ralof. It may have been the smarter move: the Imperials were just about to have me executed, and I was letting one of their soldiers carry me to safety. If another soldier spotted me with Hadvar, how would they react? Would they try to put me down again? But are the Stormcloaks any better?

But before I could make that decision, fate decided to intervene. There was a loud thud, and the ground around me shook. Hadvar lost his grip, and I flopped to the ground, my ankle burning as my full weight shifted onto it. I looked up, and where Ralof once stood, but all I could see were blackened scales. I was directly under the beast.

From behind me came the snapping of jaws, immediately followed by the repeated crunching of bone. Hadvar could not help me now. I sat up to the best of my ability, and with my useless leg dragging along, I scooted away from the dragon.

I kept scooting back, watching in horror as a pair of legs disappeared into the dragon's maw, blood dripping down from it. My back hit a wall, and I knew that was the end of the line. The beast turned its head, blood-red eyes gazing into mine own. The stench of blood wafting from its breath.

It started towards me. As it came closer, it spoke. It spoke a strange tongue, one that I never heard before. My heart raced faster and faster, threatening to burst from my chest. I tried looking for somewhere, anywhere to escape to, My breath came in shallow gasps, both in pain, and in fear. The beast paused, its head inches away from me. The stench now pungent and sickening. It stopped talking. It was time for its meal.

It reared its head back, primed to strike. The blood on its jaws glistened in the sunlight. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end to come. Then, there was the snapping of jaws, the crunching of bone, a sharp, burning jab, then the numbing cold.

Then I woke up.

I sat up, gasping for breath. My heart pounded against my chest. I could see nothing, and heard nothing except the sound of my own ragged gasps for air. For a moment, I thought I was dead.

I had to slow down my breathing. I tried to draw in a huge gulp of air, and slowly released it. I repeated until my heart was no longer pounding. I took in one last final gulp, then released. I noticed I had a hand firmly clasped on a dagger.

Reality had set in by then: I escaped Helgen, alongside Hadvar, and was now in his uncle's basement in the village of Riverwood. The area around me was pitch-black, but the darkness receded as a flame grew in my hand, casting a faint orange glow. There was a bedroll beside me, laying open and empty. Hadvar must've gone outside.

I decided to join him as well. Fresh air would do me some good, after the terror I just had. I opened up my bedroll, and sat up. As I balanced myself on my two feet, I could still feel slight pangs in my ankle. Nothing serious, just a sore. I reached back and grabbed the deer-hide cloak I took with me before sleeping. I draped it around my body, and started for the stairs.

I crept along the basement floor, a small flame lighting the way before me. The only sound that could be heard was the faint tap-tapping of claws on stone. I climbed up the wooden stairs leading out, snuffing out the flame as I reached the top. Moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating the rest of the way.

Alvor's house was small but cozy. Everything one would need to live was neatly organized and within seemingly arm's reach. If one entered through the front door, you would see the large bed Alvor and his wife slept in right in front of you, while his daughter's was pushed against the wall to the right, beside a dresser. The dining table was immediately to the left of the door, now cleaned off from last night's supper, with a cabinet holding the plates and cutlery, along with pots and pans, against the wall beside it. The fireplace was found slightly to the left, behind the dining table. The embers had been snuffed out a few hours before. The basement is where Alvor kept the items he made at the forge, waiting to be sold. The stairs leading to it were past the dining table.

I snuck to the front door, my right hand now grasping my cloak. I placed the other hand on the door handle, and in a quick movement, I opened the door and walked right through, silently closing it behind me.

The first thing I noticed, even before I stepped outside, was the cold. It was the kind of cold that chilled you through the bone, a cold that could prove dangerous for someone like me, if they're not prepared. It stung the nostrils, and tore right through clothing. The haunting part was that there are even colder places in this land.

The second thing I noticed, or rather, he noticed me, was Hadvar. "Couldn't sleep?" The sudden voice startled me, and my hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of my dagger, tucked into the waist of my trousers. I stopped myself before my hand wrapped around it, but there was no doubt he noticed. When I turned around I saw his brow furrowed, before turning away, looking towards the sky. He leaned against a wooden support on the porch. I wondered how he could stand outside wearing just a shirt and trousers.

I walked beside him and sat down. The twin moons hung high in the air, indicating about midnight. Stars dotted the night sky, surrounding the twin moons. The moonlight illuminated the whole town.

A chill ran along my spine. I gave a short shiver, then lit a simple flame in the palm of my hand, casting the area in an orange glow. Hadvar stared at the flame, warily, as if to say, "Don't burn down anything." It made me remember that Nords are not very trusting of magic, no matter how elementary.

Hadvar cleared his throat. "So, uhh... quite a day wasn't it?" He gave an awkward smile, saying what we both knew: that was a major understatement. I gave a short nod in agreement, my eyes now fixed on him.

He gave a short, weary sigh, and leaned back on his hands, legs stretched out and crossed. He shifted uncomfortably, changing positions and the like, for a few minutes before asking the question that was on both of our minds: "Do you think anybody else made it out?"

I could only shrug in response to that. The dragon destroyed so much, killed so many. We were lucky to escape. Even now, haunting images pervaded my mind: bodies mangled and twisted, charred corpses littering the streets...

Wanting to change the subject, Hadvar again cleared his throat, before saying, "It's odd seeing an Argonian around here." I shot him a questioning look, wondering where he was going with it. Most Nords aren't fond of the so-called "beast races."

"S...sorry," he stammered, "What I meant to say was that I thought they mostly stuck to the Marsh, or the warmer areas like Cyrodiil."

"Never been to the Marsh," was all I can say in response to that.

"Really?" he asked, surprised, "Not even as a child? I mean I thought they all..."

"I'm sure,"'I snapped. We sat there in silence, with only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. Finally, Hadvar stood up.

"I think I'll go back to bed," he said. I shrugged, and stood up to join him. We crept back down the basement steps, and got back into our own bedrolls. For some time, I just stared at the ceiling, failing to find sleep. Helgen remained embedded in my mind, reminding me how close I was to death. Finally, I just turned to my side, and close my eyes.

"Hey, wake up. It's morning." A hand shook my shoulder, continuously shaking until I grabbed it and opened my eyes. Hadvar crouched over me, still wearing his nighttime garb. Light seeped down from upstairs.

"It's morning already?" I muttered, groggily. It felt like just a minute ago, it was still near midnight. Exhaustion ate away at my eyes as I opened my bedroll and stood up.

"Yeah. Sigrid just got food on the table." He started for the stairs, leaving me alone for the moment. I gave a deep, tired sigh, and stretched a little before climbing up the stairs.

"Good morning!" Sigrid cheerfully exclaimed, as I reached the last step. "Food's on the table, just pull up a chair."

I gave a quick wave as everybody else gave their good mornings. I sat down at the table, beside Dorthe, who sat at the head, and Hadvar, who sat at my left. Alvor sat across from me, with Sigrid at his right.

"So...what brings you here?" Alvor asked, after several moments of silence. I had originally thought this was going to be a quiet meal, much like last night. Seems that wasn't the case.

"Just wanted to travel," I replied.

"Didn't wanna stay cooped up in B-?"

"Cyrodiil," I interrupted.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I just assumed..."

I just shrugged my shoulders and the silence came back, at least for a few seconds. Alvor then started snickering.

"That's one way to get into a girl's breeches," he mumbled, barely audible.

"Alvor!" Sigrid gave him a hard slap on the shoulder. Hadvar started laughing, and little Dorthe just sat there, confused.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"Nothing, sweetie," said Sigrid, giving Alvor that chastising glare.

"Yeah, nothing," he said, smiling, "Just recalled the fact our friend came in wearing women's clothing."

Hadvar continued laughing, and added, "You're right! It was the only thing that fit him!"

I gave a shoddy attempt at a smile. Normally I had armor fitted to me, but the Imperials took that as well. When Hadvar and I were fighting through the keep, I had to take the armor off a female Stormcloak.

"I should have some armor for you in stock," started Alvor again, still smiling, "If not, I should be able to get you some in a day or so."

"How much?"

"You don't have to pay anything. Least I can do for you, for the favor you're doing."

I gave a final nod, before the meal was over and Sigrid started to clean up the table. It was still early morning, so I decided to look around town, before I headed off to Whiterun.

One of the first things I noticed was that there are no guards in town. Alvor was right, I thought, They aren't prepared for bandit attacks, much less a dragon.

On the main road there may the shops and the inn. If coming from Helgen, Alvor's blacksmithing was to the left, smoke bellowing out from under the awnings. The general store, The Riverwood Trader, was located to the right, after a house, and behind it, The Sleeping Giant Inn. I went into the Trader first.

I could here the shouting before I even entered. It sounds like the owners were in the midst of an argument. There was a man's voice, and a woman's voice. When I entered, I saw they were both at the counter. The woman was shouting first.

"Well what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!"

"I said no!" shouted back the man, "No adventures, no theatrics, no thief chasing!"

The woman started to storm off, just as I closed the door behind me. They both had similar features to them, and they appeared around the same age. Siblings, perhaps?

"Oh, a customer," the man mumbled, facing towards me, "Sorry you had to hear. We're still open if you need anything."

Were they robbed? was the first thought I had. The place looked clean, and I noticed some items that definitely would've been stolen if they were.

"What happened?" I asked, approaching the counter. The woman had sat herself at a table several feet away.

"Oh, err...we may have been err...robbed," he stammered, "We still have plenty to sell. The robbers were only after one thing."

I arched a brow, or at least attempted to. How valuable was this item? They passed over many things that would've turned a nice profit.

"An ornament, solid gold, in the shape of a dragon's claw."

_Solid gold? Dragon's claw? That's it?_

"Odd," I said, "Are you sure nothing else has been taken?"

"I'm certain."

_What's so important about this claw? If they were going to fence it, they would've taken so much more._

"Sorry to hear that. Do you know where they went?"

"Bleak Falls Barrow," the woman huffed, her arms crossed against her chest, "They went to Bleak Falls Barrow."

_The ruins on the mountain? Strange._

I bought some supplies, and left the Trader. Those ruins intrigued me, to say the least. I felt as if those ruins were tied to something, but what, I did not know.

When I exited the Trader, I saw Alvor, sharpening a sword. He used a pedal-operated grinder. He looked up from his work and called me over.

"Hey!" he shouted, waving me over with a free hand. As I headed towards him, he sheathed the sword and set it down on a nearby table. I also saw a few pieces of armor, a mixture of iron and leather pieces scattered about.

"Told you I'd get you that armor," he said with a warm grin.

I looked over the pieces. Just by eyeing them I noted they were suited for those with tall, thin frames. I set aside the iron, separating them from the leather.

I picked up a leather jack. I gave a hard knock with the back of my hand, satisfied to hear the muffled thumps it gave. Sturdy leather, I'd give it that. I slung it over my body, with my tunic underneath. After fixing the buckles and belts, it was still somewhat big, but not especially hindering.

I put on the rest of the armor, the guards (had to add a hole for the tail) and gauntlets, until I reached the boots. The boots were made for man and mer, not for the beast races. Alvor seemed to understand that as well.

"I'll work on that for you," he said, taking the one in my hands, and laying it down next to the other one, "Should have it done before evening."

"Won't be back until tomorrow," I said, my mind wandering to those ruins up on the mountain. This town is directly in its shadow. "You sure I don't have to pay?"

"It's the least I can do," he replied, warm smile on his face, "Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine."

I gave a slight nod, before turning away with my new armor. It felt odd, not having the full set. Whiterun wasn't that far away, however. I decided to pick up a short meal from the inn, before heading off. I also grabbed a loaf of bread, to eat if I get hungry along the way.

The sun hung high in the air when I took off from the small village. I figured I would reach Whiterun before evening, with no interruptions. I looked behind me, not at the small town, but towards the now ruined fort that was once Helgen. Those memories came flooding back: charred remains, mangled bodies, and the roads of the beast.

_The Bringer of the End Times_. The phrase echoed in my mind. Hadvar called it that when we were trying to escape. And the destruction it caused. _It destroyed a manned fort within minutes._

I tried to push it out of my mind. I pointed my head forward, and continued deeper in this strange land. But no matter how much I tried to forget about it, a question burned itself in the back of my head: what's going to happen now?


End file.
